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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24199762">"Friends"</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/mikethelipe/pseuds/mikethelipe'>mikethelipe</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>La casa de papel | Money Heist (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Everyone Is Gay, Everyone Needs A Hug, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Martin needs a hug, Romantic Fluff, Short &amp; Sweet</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-03 01:48:45</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,171</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24199762</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/mikethelipe/pseuds/mikethelipe</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>"No we’re not friends. We could be anything if we tried.."</p><p>Or: the path of Andrés and Martín from friends to lovers.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Berlin | Andrés de Fonollosa &amp; Palermo | Martín Berrote, Berlin | Andrés de Fonollosa/Palermo | Martín Berrote</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>53</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>201</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Friends just sleep in another bed.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>hi gays, here again! this fandom needs a little bit fluffy after so much angsty, especially considering that every day we are more closer to the end of <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24134944/chapters/58109980">unwritten</a> (if u dont read this, please do it bcs its beautiful), which is simply the most painful fic of this fandom</p><p>again: english is not my native language but im trying my best</p><p>this fic is based on "friends" by ed sheeran and will be updated every day or two!</p><p>thanks to my beautiful and perfect beta <a href="https://twitter.com/221B_BerlinSt?s=09">mel</a>, i would be nothing without her! te quiero mucho hermanito, no lo olvides.</p><p>good reading yall :')</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"How do you feel about settling down somewhere?"</p><p> </p><p>After eight years of friendship, wandering around with his best friend, Martín couldn't say he ever expected <em> this. </em></p><p> </p><p>He remembered their last big heist: 434 diamonds in Paris, a perfect blow that had left no trace, poetic and brilliant, just like they always wished for. Now, after all, they obviously had to move again, as they always did. It was like a tradition: new city, new robbery. Success and then going back to the beginning, changing the city or country they were living in, a loop really. So Martín <em> definitely </em>didn't expect that.</p><p> </p><p>"What do you think of settling somewhere?" Andrés asked again when he got no answer, looking in the engineer’ eyes. Martín blinked, trying to assimilate what he had just heard.</p><p> </p><p>"Do you mean like a… a place? For a while?" Andrés smiled, seeing his friend's confusion.</p><p> </p><p>"A home, Martín. I'm thinking about getting a house for us."</p><p> </p><p>Martin stammered a little, unable to avoid the crimson red that washed over his cheeks as he thought about the possibility of <em> their </em>house. Andrés smiled in response, continuing to write whatever it was in his notebook, leaving Martín in a whirlwind of thoughts.</p><p> </p><p>Months later, they were there in Florence, Italy. Martín insisted for months about them moving to Palermo, but he knew he would never convince his friend because he was always the one who gave the final answers. And, in the end, Martín didn't really care about letting Andrés decide.</p><p> </p><p>Andrés, like the chic man he was, had chosen a stylish place. A great monastery, beautiful and imposing just like him. He walked around the building presenting every detail to Martín like a proud owner, smiling like never before. And the engineer was not much different.</p><p> </p><p>He still didn't know how much time Andrés was going to put up with in the same place, but he wanted to enjoy every moment of it that he could. Martín tried to return to the present and pay attention to Andrés' words while he showed him the separate rooms that were, in fact, cells.</p><p>Martin has always been very good with dates. In fact, he considered himself a very caring guy. He never forgot a year, a day or an hour. But, surprisingly, he couldn't remember when it was that he and Andrés began to sleep together in the chapel.</p><p> </p><p>Thinking about it now, he remembered discovering it one day during a cleaning and Andrés adorably falling in love with the space. They reformed it and brought back its beauty. Over time, Andrés transformed it into a kind of office. The tallest one had always been an accumulator in a poetic way, keeping all the works and sculptures he could, and with time they all occupied some corner of the chapel. And he also brought a huge double bed, after a few months, but Martín was still sleeping in his cell.</p><p> </p><p>He remembered falling asleep on the chapel sofa one day, after a long time of work thinking about how they would get into the safe without being crushed by water, and also waking up with Andrés's blanket on him and a cup of coffee waiting for him at the center table.</p><p> </p><p>A few days later, he got tired and lay in Andrés's bed, sleeping instantly. He could have sworn he felt Andrés lying with him at night, but at dawn he found no one. Martín struggled to wake up a little earlier in the following days, but Andrés always seemed to get up before him.</p><p> </p><p>After a month, the first time Andrés was really with Martín when he woke up, the engineer didn't know how to react. It had been a heavy night of work and Martín had gone to sleep before Andrés. They were on either side of the bed, but still with little space between them. Andrés' face looked tired, and Martín allowed himself to spend a few minutes just admiring the man in front of him. His fingers touched the other's cheeks, drawn like a magnet. He left a cup of tea on the nightstand for when Andrés woke up.</p><p> </p><p>From then on, it became just one more thing on their habit list. Martin didn't know if it was on purpose, but they woke up closer and closer. First, the arms were touching timidly. Then an interlaced leg. One hand on his chest. And when he found himself, he woke up with his head lying on Andrés' chest. And, sometimes, he could have sworn he felt Andrés stirring his hair when he thought he was sleeping.</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. And friends don't treat me like you do</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>more gay fluffy, nothing new guys</p><p>today's chapter is to compensate yall for <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24200968">helplessly hoping</a> and for the last chapter of <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24134944/chapters/58109980">unwritten</a>, which simply destroyed us in 3837838383 pieces (if you haven't read it, read before that so you can suffer and then fix it with fluffy)</p><p>thanks for mel for the betaing again, i love her so so much 💙</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Andrés would never be considered as the most careful guy in the world. In fact, he had such a lack of care that even caused fear. He was called out as an egocentric because he never thought much of anyone but him. At least that would be the vision that most people would get, but seeing him with Sérgio for a few seconds was enough to make anyone change their opinion.</p><p> </p><p>Andrés took care of Sérgio as if he was made of glass. His face always seemed peaceful around his brother, shining and smiling. Anyone who looked, would say that Sergio was the only person in the world that Andrés cared about.</p><p> </p><p>Until, of course, seeing him with Martín.</p><p> </p><p>If with Sergio the painter acted as if he were made of glass, with Martín it looked like the rarest crystal. Despite having a dangerous profession - after all, they always had the risk of being arrested - the tallest one did everything so that Martín was never in dangerous situations. And that was a difficult task, considering that the engineer was one of the most inconsequential people in the world. Andrés acted as if Martín were his sun and stars - and maybe he was.</p><p> </p><p>Andrés didn't remember when it was that his friend started to mean so much to him, but the fact was that he did. </p><p> </p><p>He worried about him every single time, mainly in the serious ones, like heists. He always felt his heart beating faster than it should whenever Martin found himself in a not-so-safe situation, whenever he defied the police or provoked a hostage. Martín was an exaggerated and dramatic man and everything he did needed to be spectacular enough, and Andrés hated the feeling in his chest whenever Martín took a chance on drama. That was a normal concern, wasn't it? They were partners and that could end the plan, right? </p><p> </p><p>But then he worried about his friend on more specific times. Martin always had the habit of picking a fight with anyone who complained and mocked about his height, about the fact that he was Argentine or homosexual. And, suddenly, Andrés found himself fighting about those insults too (maybe more than he should). He didn't know why, but he tirelessly hit a man who dared to call Martín a maricón, and an overwhelming rage consumed him when a stranger laughed at them in the bar. But he still thought it was normal. After all, they were friends, weren't they? And friends protected each other.</p><p> </p><p>But the concern evolves into simple things, like asking himself if Martín had eaten that day or slept well. When he saw Martín sleeping on the Monastery sofa, his mind was dominated by voices asking if he was cold. <em>He will wake up sick</em>, said one. Then Andrés took his blanket and spread it over him. <em>He didn't eat all day, make coffee</em>. He made coffee, even though he always hated the smell of coffee. When Martín started sleeping in his bed, he could only worry that the engineer was sleeping so little.</p><p> </p><p>After some time, he started to leave a cup of coffee for Martín every day, leaving it on the nightstand by the bed. He always woke up before Martín, spending a few minutes just watching his sleep to make sure he was okay. His hands were drawn to the other man's hair like a magnet, and he could only think about how much the engineer in front of him was the most precious jewel he had ever had the pleasure of having; even the 434 diamonds had never shone as brightly as he did. </p><p> </p><p>One day, he woke up with a cup of tea waiting for him on the nightstand.</p><p> </p><p>In the next few days, they were in sync, like a perfect orchestra, always waking up together. And, as if there were a conductor controlling each movement, the tone increases more with each new little touch, and Andrés could feel the vibration rising and rising with each minute. And they reach their peak when Martín lies down on Andrés' chest, and everything seems to fall into place. Andrés is partly overcome by worry and fear whenever he wakes up and feels that he needs to take care of the man in his arms, but he also finds himself overwhelmed by tranquility and good things when he runs his hands through his engineer 's hair and finally feels at home. He doesn't worry about delays or missing the hour for some appointment anymore and he felt like he didn't need to melt gold anymore, he was embracing right there the only thing he could ever want.</p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Well I know that there's a limit to everything</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>hi here again!!</p><p>i strongly recommend that you read this chapter listening to "ti amo" by humberto tozzi because i wrote it listening so</p><p>this chapter is dedicated to mel because, in addition of being my beta, is one of the most incredible people that i have ever met.  i love her with everything i have.</p><p>if you don’t yet, please check <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24236278">stolen kiss</a>. , that inez wrote to me.  it's cute and fun and will make u happy!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>To be honest, Martín never had a relationship before. Like, a real relationship, with romantic requests and titles, the type of relationship where you use rings and change your status on facebook to "<em>dating</em>". </p><p> </p><p>Actually, his high school had been full of flirting and kisses under the stairs. He always knew he was gay and had never made point of hiding it from anyone, which made him a kind of test for all the straight boys at school. At that time, he didn't understand very well but it didn't really bother him.</p><p> </p><p>In the Engineering college, it wasn't much different. Many boys wanted to kiss him or have a night of sex, but none really wanted to take on a relationship or keep it up for more than a day. Some came back a few times in a month, when they had no choice and wanted quickie. But everyone left after relieving themselves, never stayed all night. At that time, Martín already understood what was going on, but preferred to ignore it.</p><p> </p><p>Martin knew what it was like to be used, it became familiar to him after so long. So he didn't really care about his intimacy with Andrés, it was just normal. Straight men are needy sometimes and cash in on their gay friends, but never needy enough to turn it into a relationship.</p><p> </p><p>He was not surprised when they slept in the same bed, it did not exceed any limits. It was just normal. But he was surprised when Andrés started to be there the next morning. None before Andrés had stayed that long.</p><p> </p><p>And also with the little caring, like the coffees. Or the fact that Andrés always stayed with him in the morning until he woke up, messing with his hair or simply drawing with his fingers on his back. He lost count of how many times he just lay there pretending to sleep just to prolong those moments.</p><p> </p><p>And the touches during the day, which always had been frequent, had managed to increase even more. One hand on his back as he leaned over the table to see some project. A soft slide of hand on his shoulders. Fingers in his hands, always drawing imaginary lines that, in the painter's mind, seemed to make a lot of sense.</p><p> </p><p>Martín blushed from head to toe when, after hearing a new idea about the plan, Andrés left a quick kiss on his cheek as he smiled proudly.</p><p> </p><p>Martín thought he understood how being friends with a straight guy worked, but all the knowledge he had accumulated throughout the years seemed to be thrown into the air with Andrés.</p><p> </p><p>And he really threw all the prior knowledge into space when, on a cold night in the monastery when he was focused on fixing some mistakes about the plan, he heard music starting in the background. He recognized the melody of "Ti amo", the soft rhythm filling the room. He hasn't taken his eyes off his plant yet, at least not until he feels hands touching his back. He had been touched like that so many times before, but still made him feel like a teenager when the touch was made by Andrés.</p><p> </p><p><em>Would you like to dance with me</em>? He asked softly. And Martín knew that, even though he did want to, he would never deny anything to his best friend.</p><p> </p><p>Although the music was slightly fast, he and Andrés were slow dancing. One hand at the base of his spine and the other lightly holding his hand as they moved lazily.</p><p> </p><p><em>Rendimi l'altra meta'</em> he sang in his ear. And Martín melted, sure it sounded just like the voice of an angel.</p><p> </p><p>The taller man's mouth remained close to his ear even after he stopped singing, his breath fast but calm. He continued on his way across Martin's cheeks, as if he were being drawn like a moth into a flame. Martín stared at the taller one for a few seconds before closing his eyes tightly and feeling his lips being pressed gently by the painter.</p><p> </p><p>"Butterflies in the stomach" seemed so little now, because Martín felt like his stomach had become an entire zoo of feelings. He opened his mouth and allowed the painter to explore further, and Martín felt like fireworks when the other man deepened the kiss even more, never letting go of his hand.</p><p> </p><p><em>Io ti amo</em>, he whispered with the music when they stopped the kiss to breathe. And Martín allowed himself to feel some hope.<em> Ti amo, ti amo, ti amo, ti amo.</em></p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. But my friends won't love me like you</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>today's thanks go to mel again because without her i would be literally nothing: she turned this drowsy and drunk chapter into something readable and i am very grateful to her.</p><p>if you haven't done it yet, check <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23791339/chapters/57154750">where we come alive</a> which is the thg! au you need but didn't know (love u lina)</p><p>i really liked this chapter and I think it's my favorite so i hope yall like it!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>Andrés had always been a man of titles.</p><p> </p><p>He considered himself an extremely rude guy; he didn't follow the popularly perpetuated rules, but he did follow his own. And those included titles.</p><p> </p><p>At school, he was <em>the smart one</em>. Not the kind who knew how to do complex equations and calculations, but the one who could convince anyone about anything. If he spent ten minutes talking about how 2 + 2 = 5, you would believe it without question.</p><p> </p><p>In high school, he was <em>the boy whose mother was dying</em>.</p><p> </p><p>Then, like a kind of curse, the titles continued to follow him. <em>Thief</em>. <em>Criminal</em>. And he became fond of titles and adopted them.</p><p> </p><p>The proof of this was crystal clear when he married and won the title of <em>husband</em>, 4 times until that moment.</p><p> </p><p>Ironically, with Martín, Andrés never managed - or tried - to have titles.</p><p> </p><p>He never managed to speak of them as if they were <em>friends</em>. From the moment he laid eyes on Martín, something burned inside the painter's chest and he felt like he missed him, even though he had never seen him before. It was like a meeting of souls, as if they had known each other for so long.</p><p> </p><p>If he tried to define what he felt with Martín, he could say that it was something that he missed so much in his life without knowing. He felt like he never had such natural conversations as they had in the morning when they woke up. Or in the afternoon. Or at night. </p><p> </p><p>He could never give definitive titles to their relationship, he didn't understand it, he could only say that it was familiarly new.</p><p> </p><p>When Martín was in his arms, it felt like home. Like when, after a tiring and stressful day, you can finally get some rest and a huge relief fills you up when you arrive and walk through the door. When you look out the window and everything looks so bad and grey but there it's safe, it's comfortable.</p><p> </p><p>If he tried to define Martín, he would say it was a constant art. Not only because of the drama and the ongoing poem, but because everything Martín did was beautiful and poetic. Andrés has always been a lover of all arts and he felt hooked on Martín, as if the engineer was the most interesting thing he had ever seen, failing to take his eyes off of him for any second, fearing he would lose some detail.</p><p> </p><p>Thinking about it now, he also never managed to refer to Martin as my friend. He was always my engineer.</p><p> </p><p>He could never give definitive titles, he could only say that he never wanted to miss this, miss him.</p><p> </p><p>When Martín looked at him in the eyes, it felt like everything, probably because of his blue eyes. Go to the deepest point in the ocean and all you will see is blue. Go to the highest point in the sky and everything you will see will also be blue. And Martin was everything. He was like the sea, calm and agitated at the same time, deep and full of secrets. And like the sky too, wide and hopeful, happy and childlike.</p><p> </p><p>And, in fact, the engineer was full of details. Andrés was a painter, but ironically he had never been able to paint Martín before. He had tried it countless times, but he always felt that it was so little and poor compared to reality, he always missed some detail. He often caught himself drawing on Martín's skin with his fingers, trying to memorize every detail to try to get on to the canvas, but it always seemed in vain.</p><p> </p><p>Martín was a copyrighted art that didn't allow any reproduction.</p><p> </p><p>He could never give definitive titles, he could only make sure to never ruin art.</p><p> </p><p>When Martín smiled at him, it was definitely Heaven. He was not religious at all, but he felt like he had been blessed. If everyone had a miracle in their life, his would surely be Martín. And God, how lucky he was for his miracle.</p><p> </p><p>Not for the first time, Andrés thought about love. He thought about how nothing he felt before and called love was remotely like what he felt now with Martín in his arms, moving slowly around the room and following the sound in the background. Andrés tried to think about love, maybe he got the concept wrong, but all he could think of was Martín… Maybe Martín was love. </p><p> </p><p>He could never give definitive titles, he barely understood it.</p><p> </p><p>When he touched Martín's lips with his own, it was like a new year. It was fireworks, singing, happiness, renewal and hope, all together in just a few minutes.</p><p> </p><p>Then he stopped thinking, let the titles get lost in the middle of the mess, in the middle of the great show that the two starred together, but it still felt right. Actually, it was the first time something felt this right. </p><p> </p><p>He could never give definitive titles, he could only make comparisons. But it still seemed so little for Martín, even everything felt too little</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. No, my friends won't love me like you</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>well, the last chapter is out!</p><p> yesterday we reached 100 kudos and i couldn't be happier.<br/> this would never be possible without the help of mel, who makes everything i write gets better and always helps me with ideas or just listening to sergey lazarev with me.  I love her so much.<br/>and lina too, who ever makes me smile and introduced me to esc 😗✌ i love her with all i have<br/> and that would also not be possible without all the support i received.  all the comments by inez, all the salad squad and all the other comments here that helped and encouraged me.  yall are angels.</p><p> i hope you liked friends and that i made you smile at least once.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>If he had to tag himself, Martín would say that he is a skeptical guy. He always took too long to believe in something. After all, he was an engineer, a man of calculations and tests, he worked with facts only.</p><p> </p><p>He wasn't always like that, obviously, but he was more than he wasn't. When he was a child, he used to go to the church with his mother. When he was ten and she died, he prayed for her to come back, but she never did. This was the first - and only - time that he ever prayed. He didn't have any proof that God existed after all.</p><p> </p><p>So yes, Martín was a skeptical man. Except, of course, when it was about Andrés.</p><p> </p><p>And it had been that way since the first time he met the painter. He believed everything, every single word. If Andrés said that he wanted to enter the bank of Spain, then it was possible. And Martín would do anything to prove that, in fact, it was.</p><p> </p><p>If someone asked why, he would say that Andrés made him feel like everything was possible. It seemed silly, cheesy even, but it was enough. Andrés smiled at him and he felt that everything was fine - or that it would be fine.</p><p> </p><p>He always believed in every one of Andrés' words. But, for the first time, he found himself doubting them when Andrés said he wanted to marry him.</p><p> </p><p>The way Andrés asked was not like in the movies, where the guy kneels down, with a beautiful ring on a velvet box and <em>Do you want to marry me</em>? with a smile on his face. No, nothing like that, in fact, he didn't even have a ring.</p><p> </p><p>They were lying in bed cuddling, like every morning, with tangled arms and legs and someone with a blurry vision probably couldn't tell where one of them started nor ended. The painter traced lines on Martin's skin and looked thoughtful, while the youngest just enjoyed the moment. <em>What do you think about getting married</em>? He asked as naturally as anyone would ask about the time. Martín stood up quickly, his eyes wide. He opened his mouth several times trying to find something to say, a joke to tell, but nothing came. Andrés got up calmly and left a quick kiss on his lips, smiling as he got up.</p><p> </p><p>At first, he thought it was a joke. Andrés didn't comment about it for days, and Martín wondered if he had forgotten. But suddenly he saw flowers and decorations arriving at the Monastery, and he still didn't know what to say. </p><p> </p><p>The next day, Andrés asked for help making the invitations.</p><p> </p><p>Martín still didn't know whether to believe or not. He wondered briefly if, by any chance, Andrés was going crazy.</p><p> </p><p>On The day, he was almost sure that it was a dream. He suck air through his nose and let it out slowly through his mouth, as he had done a thousand times before, trying to lessen his anxiety. Nairobi adjusted his tie while commenting about Bogotá's suit, not stopping talking for a minute. He could hear Tokyo's voice from outside the room, also speaking loudly.</p><p> </p><p>As he got out, he felt everyone's eyes on him. Stockholm with Cincinnati in her lap, smiling and waving. Denver beside her rolled his eyes, but he laughed too. Tokyo watched with irony, probably believing it was all a joke, with Rio always by her side. Helsinki was just pure happiness, applauding even if it wasn't the time to applaud. Near the altar were Sérgio and Raquel, the inspector smiling and the professor, despite trying to disguise it, almost crying too. Nairobi nudged Bogotá excitedly and he rolled his eyes, but Martín could see his lips slightly lifted in the corners. Marseille held Sofia close to his chest, and he looked at everything disinterested as if he always knew it was going to happen. Alicia was nudging Marseille, looking quite bored, whispering a <em>When will this end? I want to eat</em>.</p><p> </p><p>Finally taking courage, Martin looked at Andrés, blinding, enchantingly standing beside one of the monks of the monastery, and he almost believed Andrés now. Martin thought that it was a dream, it was a beautiful dream.</p><p> </p><p>Andrés was charming as always, but stunning like never before. The cream suit against his skin made him look even more beautiful, the salmon tie matching the flowers he had chosen to decorate the garden. He smiled ear to ear at the engineer, his brown eyes never leaving him.</p><p> </p><p>Martín would like to say that he paid attention to each one of the monk's words, that he remembered each flower and each decoration, but at that moment he could only look at Andrés and think about how lucky he was for his miracle. When asked if he accepted Andrés as his husband, he said yes so many times he even lost count. When he heard Andrés start his votes, all he managed to do was smile, and cry a little. When the<em> I declare you married</em> was heard, he felt himself flying. God, how lucky he was.</p><p> </p><p>If that was a dream, Martín was sure he didn't want to wake up.</p><p> </p><p>The party afterwards was unforgettable. Everyone was dancing and singing happily, many stopped to greet him and congratulate him. Andrés didn't let go of his hand for a second and Martín knew he had never smiled so much in his life. They danced and laughed together, the painter always full of unexpected surprises and subtle contradictions that made his heart flutter, race and rest, all at the same time.</p><p> </p><p>For the rest of the night, they lived in another world, a reality where only they existed. And Martín believed in Andrés now, because he made him feel loved until sunrise and afterwards. He thought that, even if it wasn't a dream, Andrés would always make him feel like he was in a dream, where anything is possible. And maybe everything was for them, as long as they were together.</p><p> </p>
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